Farewell to boys
The boys are leaving. Voluntarily, one would think, but in reality forced into cruel rites of passage. So that they grow up fast and are boys no longer.
The boys, who are forced away from home (and we tell them that with time it gets better). The boys, who wash dished thousands of miles away (and we tell them that this is very valuable experience). The boys, who secretly dance, secretly paint, secretly cry, secretly love (and some tell them they should enlist in the army). The boys who have already felt the lips of others, but don’t always feel themselves. The boys who are already burdened with too much ego and cannot admit that they need support, an advice, a friend. The boys who are so superficially though, yet so helplessly fragile. As fragile as the perverted concept of masculinity they must fit in.
The boys we think about nostalgically, but we would not want to be again, not really.
The boys who are worth marching for on Saturday, at Pride.